


Pretend It's Not

by kwillpleasedont



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: might delete later idfk i just didn't know how to process this, thank you woojin, this is emo poetry i wrote about woojin from the perspective of felix? changbin?, we stay with woojin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwillpleasedont/pseuds/kwillpleasedont





	Pretend It's Not

It's like someone left the window open.

There's the rustling of curtains and a symphony of unknown sounds,  
Creaking from floorboards that no one steps on and doors no one opens,  
A breeze colder than the empty spot you left beside me rolls in like it was invited.

And it was always a warm touch, a whispered encouragement that assured me you were there even if I couldn't see you. A small affirmation that the light would never burn out as long as you were there to fan the flames. I never had to wonder if you'd be gone when I woke up, or if your things would still be on your side of the room, it was never something I had to worry about.

Because you never gave any hints you were leaving. There were no signs, nothing for me to look back on and realize it was part of your imminent departure. It was supposed to be us, until forever. 

Now, a cold front settles over the room when you're not in it, conversation dries up, looks shared between me and the wall, both of us asking where you've gone. And neither of us having an answer. It's like the house can tell you're gone, can miss you just as I can.

A warm haze of safety that we took for granted has left with you, the soft touches and the comfort has left with you. 

Face meeting floor as the rug is pulled from under me, flinching when the curtains roar, having the breath knocked out me when I enter my own room. Nothing if safe, no inch of the house is the same, all seemingly out to get me just to have someone to take their anger out on, not that I blame them. I'd do it too, if I could.

It's like someone left the window open.

The wind finding its way in with regret and sorrow and every other emotion you made me promise not to feel for you in your absence.

I cry when the wind blows, laying under the bed in attempts to hide from it. Counting on fingers how many days I've gone without crying for you and not being able to make it past one. I cry in the morning when I wake and in bed at night before trying to sleep. A vicious cycle I know is bound to repeat every night until I can get used to seeing your side of the room as barren as it is, however long that will take.

I still wait for you. Time ticking along as I spend it thinking that you're just late, I'm just early, not that you're gone and I'm alone. Any excuse to hide that truth.

The skies don't grant me the courtesy of crying with me, allowing me to wallow in pity alone. I hope the winds blows for you like it does for me, that it carries my sobs to your ears however far away you are and lets you know that you aren't alone, even if I'm not there with you. 

If we still live under the same sky, I hope to meet you again someday.

_"Let’s not make things that we regret."_


End file.
